"Strongest?" Lloyd repeated the word softly, letting a faint, humorless smile touch his lips. "An interesting theory." He subtly shifted his weight again, ensuring his footing was solid on the uneven ground. "Are you quite sure you want to test that theory today? Over some cursed wool you probably don't even know how to handle safely?"
The leader's smirk faltered slightly at the mention of the curse, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. "Cursed? Bah! Old wives' tales! Wool is wool, and wool fetches coin! Or maybe," his eyes narrowed speculatively, "you're just tryin' to scare us off, lordling? Protect your prize?"
"He's bluffing, Boss!" the lanky one insisted, though his eyes darted nervously towards the nearest carcass. "He looks knackered! And that mutt's barely standin'!"
Fang chose that moment to lift his head fully, letting out another low, resonant growl. The air around him crackled faintly, the golden eyes fixing on the lanky man with an intensity that made him involuntarily take a step back.
"Mutt?" Lloyd murmured, still smiling faintly. "Fang takes offense to that. He prefers 'Elemental Harbinger of Your Impending Doom'. Bit wordy, I know, but more accurate."
The leader scowled, unnerved by the wolf's reaction but unwilling to back down, especially now that his authority was implicitly challenged. "Enough yap! Hand over the pelts, lad! And maybe toss in that fancy knife and coin pouch for our trouble. Do it nice and easy, and maybe, just maybe, we let you and your overgrown dog walk away."
"Walk away?" Lloyd tilted his head, feigning contemplation. "An intriguing offer. Let me consider the terms." His internal monologue raced. Okay, options. One: Unleash Fang fully. Thousand Chirp Strikes until they're twitching piles of ash. Fast, effective, but drains Fang completely, leaving us vulnerable if there is a hidden leader or another wave. Plus, overkill attracts attention. Two: Use the Steel Wires again. Less draining for Fang, more draining for me. Still effective, still potentially overkill. Three: Try something… less flashy? More subtle? Something that conserves energy but still delivers a decisive message?
He thought of the hidden leader again. If someone was watching, they wanted to gauge his capabilities, his limits. A flashy display might scare them off temporarily, but it also revealed his hand. A swift, brutal, low-energy takedown, however… that might be more unsettling. More unpredictable.
Right, he decided. Minimal expenditure. Maximum psychological impact. Let them wonder.
He looked back at the scavengers, his smile fading, replaced by a chillingly calm indifference. "My counter-offer," he said softly, his voice suddenly devoid of warmth, "is this: Turn around. Walk away. Forget you ever saw these sheep or me. Do that now, and you might keep the skin you're currently standing in."
The leader bristled, mistaking the quiet tone for weakness. "Threats? From a pampered pup hiding behind his beast?" He hefted his axe again, taking a step forward. "Lads! Looks like we gotta teach him some respect! Take the wolf down first!"
The three men surged forward, clumsy but determined, weapons raised, faces contorted with greed and aggression.
Lloyd sighed internally. So much for the diplomatic approach. He didn't reach for his knife. He didn't command Fang to attack.
He simply focused his will.
Not on searing heat this time. Not on slicing edges.
He drew on the Ferrum power, shaping it differently. Fine threads, yes, but cool now, imbued not with fire, but with a different aspect of his control – kinetic force, manipulated with pinpoint precision.
As the leader swung his axe in a wild, downward arc, aiming to cleave Fang's skull, Lloyd acted. An invisible filament of force, finer than a hair but carrying immense tensile strength, snapped taut between the axe head and the ground directly in front of the leader's leading foot.
The axe head hit the invisible barrier with jarring solidity. The abrupt stop, combined with the leader's forward momentum, sent him stumbling violently, roaring in surprise and pain as his wrist twisted awkwardly.
Simultaneously, two more filaments whipped out. One wrapped around the lanky man's ankle as he lunged, yanking his foot out from under him, sending him crashing face-first into the dirt with a startled yelp. The other flicked whip-like against the stocky man's sword hand, not cutting, but delivering a sharp, shocking impact that numbed his fingers and sent his weapon flying from his grasp.
It was over in less than two seconds. No lightning. No fire. No blood, beyond perhaps a scraped nose from the face-plant. Just three grown men suddenly, inexplicably, finding themselves tripped, disarmed, and sprawled humiliatingly on the ground by forces they couldn't see or comprehend.
They stared, stunned, confused, pain mixing with dawning fear. What just happened?